Page 84 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
Alex stayedin Kimberly’s hospital room for the next thirty-six hours as the chaos subsided. He only left a few times to visit Mrs. Capps, who’d required surgery on a broken hip, and to answer questions. The envelope Elle had retrieved held most of the answers. Thompson Investments had been laundering money for a drug cartel for over a decade—a fact Jeremy hadn’t learned until after he’d been transferred to the West Coast. Agent Danes was on the cartel’s payroll and ordered the hits on his former partner and Jeremy. Agent Garcia regained consciousness and testified how Danes had tried to kill her when she’d uncovered the truth. They had rounded up the other accomplices in the smaller branch post office and low budget motel in Shipshewana.
He tried to explain this to Kimberly in a reasonable manner, but Kimberly held up a hand. “Bottom line—Jeremy was trying to do the right thing but was working with an agent who also worked for the cartel and that’s why he was killed?”
“Yes.”
“So am I still in danger?” Kimberly rocked her baby.
“No. The information the cartel wanted is now in the hands of the FBI, and numerous arrests have been made. Jeremy is a hero.”
Tears welled up in Kimberly’s eyes. “Can I have some time alone?”
Alex sat outside her room for hours and was never invited back in.
* * *
Kimberly held her pen above the standard form. Her son needed a name. Over the last few weeks, she had toyed with Zander, but now that Jeremy was a hero, it seemed wrong to name her son after a man she would soon divorce. Alex hadn’t returned to her room since she’d asked for time alone. And without her phone, she couldn’t contact him even if she knew what to say.
A memory that had been buried with the hopes of a child soon after her first marriage surfaced. She and Jeremy had been surfing baby-name sites, laughing at the most ridiculous names they could come up with. Xzatvian had been the clear winner.
Jeremy rubbed her still-flat tummy. “I like Clay. It was my grandpa’s name. Clay Warner. Probably the best man I ever knew. He used to tell me stories about my mom and take me fishing.”
Kimberly reached for the baby snuggled against her. “What do you think, Clay?”
Her little son opened his mouth in search of nourishment. Kimberly quickly wrote “Clay” on the line. The harder part was the last name. As much as she despised her father-in-law, his last name was Jeremy’s last name. She finished the paperwork and signed her name.
“Okay, Clay Warner Thompson. Time to eat.”
* * *
Alex wandered through the house, the little pieces of Kimberly’s life scattered about the place causing his heart to ache. A hairband on the coffee table, a burp cloth on the back of the chair, sandals on the library floor. He found her in the loft, lying on a beanbag and staring at the skylight. Clay lay next to her.
“I came to say goodbye. And to give Clay this.” He reached behind him for the brown-paper-wrapped quilt.
She turned from the window and took the package. “Goodbye?”
“Your life is no longer in danger. My job is done.”Give me permission to stay.
“Oh. I guess you’re right.” Kimberly set the package near her feet.
“Do you know where you will go?” Alex settled into the other beanbag.
“I need to go to California. The authorities are letting me into the house to collect a few personal items before they auction everything off.”
“Then what?”
“Candace has offered me a month-to-month lease if I want to stay here. I took one month so far. I hired a charter flight so I don’t have to fly commercial with Clay.” She brushed a finger across her son’s brow. “I’d rather not expose him to a gazillion airport germs.”
“Wise mama. May I see you when you get back?”
Kimberly bit her lip and looked up at the skylight again. “Alex, I wish... I’m sorry. No. I wish—”
The answer didn’t surprise him. They’d had this conversation too often. “If you ever need me—”
“I know. I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone, especially a bodyguard. But a single mom is where I need to be. I wish I could give you hope there might be a someday. You deserve better. You deserve a real marriage. My lawyer should get things sorted out soon.”
Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and reached over to touch the downy hair on Clay’s head. It was as close as he dared get to touching her, to pulling her into his arms and convincing her she was wrong. Getting Lover’s Loft to do its magic. He looked from the baby’s newborn-blue eyes to Kimberly’s brown ones. Her pupils widened. Perhaps she was thinking of magic too? She looked away, focusing her attention on Clay. “Goodbye, Alex.”
He watched her for a moment more before leaving. He paused on the stairs. “I love you.”
